


Daddy's Little Dragon

by peculiarmars



Series: Daddy's Little Prince [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Bed-Wetting, Brainwashing, Forced infantilism, M/M, Mindfuck, Sexual Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-19
Updated: 2017-07-19
Packaged: 2018-12-03 23:09:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11542359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peculiarmars/pseuds/peculiarmars
Summary: The Dark Lord thinks Draco Malfoy acted like a child on the Astronomy Tower. He has just the right punishment.





	Daddy's Little Dragon

**Author's Note:**

> This is another dark fic, so please heed the tags.
> 
> (there are time gaps between some of the paragraphs, but everything is in chronological order)
> 
> Comments and Kudos are greatly appreciated, and I am making this a series.

He's terrified. No, terrified isn't a strong enough word.

 

He had thought, all through the year, that he would find a way to do it. But the days went on and there just wasn't time. He had been so ready to accept Dumbledore's offer of safety. He only hadn't because he knew there was no point, the Death Eater's were already inside the castle and the Headmaster would be dead by the time the sun rose again.

 

This is one of the rare occasions where he hates being right.

 

And now, kneeling in front of the Dark Lord, alone in what was once one of his father's studies, he knows he has no one to blame but himself.

 

"No one to blame but yourself, you think."

 

Draco cannot tell if it is a question or not. He nods silently, willing himself not to cry.

 

"I would say that that is a mature thought, and that you are a mature boy, however; " The Dark Lord hisses, "your actions on the Astronomy Tower say otherwise."

 

Draco clenches his hands at his sides to stop them shaking so much.

 

"Why, Draco, did you defy a direct order? Are you too weak-willed to be a Death Eater?"

 

"N-no-" He stutters, keeping his gaze on the floor. In one swift move Voldemort stands and his cold hands are suddenly gripping the back of his neck. He fights back a shudder as they did into his tender flesh.

 

"I think you're lying to me, Draco. I think you are nothing but a weak-willed child." When Draco finally gathers enough courage to glance upwards, he almost wets himself at the Dark Lord's ile. It is the kind of gaze you expect from a predator who has cornered his prey. It isn't comforting.

 

He feels the cold of Voldemort's hand through the material of his robes, and the sickly pull of Apparation follows and he knows he is not in the Manor anymore.

 

* * *

 

 

He peels his eyes open and takes in the place around him. They are standing in front of an old looking house, which seems as though it is going to fall down any moment. The house is dark, and it reeks a horrible dark energy. Draco could sense the preservation wards around it.

 

He was pushed forwards by the Dark Lord's hand on his shoulder. He stumbled, quickly righting himself as he forced his breathing to remain normal. A part of him didn't think it mattered either way, knowing he stank of dread.

 

He was guided up to the house, where Voldemort opened it with a wave of his hands. He hesitated at the threshold, mind stuck on what his punishment would be. Would they torture him? Crucio him until he was as mad as Longbottom's parents? Or as mad as Aunt Bella? Or was there to be no torture at all?

 

Was he going to be dead by the time the night was over?

 

He made his legs move when he felt breathing down the back of his neck. He quickly walked into the house, wanting to get as much distance between him and the Dark Lord as possible, but he didn't dare make a run for it. He didn't to make his punishment any worse than it already was going to be.

 

Voldemort kept his hand on the boy's shoulder until they reached one of the drawing room. The boy's breathing was inbalanced, and it make him pleased to know how desparately he was trying to keep calm, knowing just how terrifying he was to the child.

 

The boy had stopped when he had, and was now standing frozen in the middle of the room. Without even looking at his face he knew that Draco was trying to sneak glances at the room around them, trying to determine what his punishment would be. He would find nothing.

 

"Draco," He said, enjoying the way the boy stiffened even further at the sound of his voice, "sit."

 

Draco didn't move. "My L-Lord?" He stuttered, not sure if he had just heard him correctly.

 

"Sit. I'll have the house elf bring us some tea." When Draco still didn't move, he pushed him down onto the marroon sofa with much more force neccesary. He sat next to him, snapping his fingers. A house elf, whose name he didn't care to remember, appeared instantly. It bowed until it was prostate in front of him.

 

"Bring us some tea." He ordered. The house elf nodded timidly and disappeared with a pop. He turned to face Draco.

 

"Now, Draco," The boy glanced at him before lowering his gaze, deciding to stare at the couch instead. Voldemort sighed leisurely, enjoying anticipation of what is to come.

 

"I do hope you are aware of the way you acted when faced with the glorious task of killing Albus Dumbledore."

 

Draco nods. "Yes," he says.

 

"Tell me. How did you act?"

 

Draco fiddles with the sleeves of his robes. "I-I acted cowardly, my Lord."

 

Voldemort leans forward, making Draco lean away from him on the sofa. But there is only so far he can go before he risks falling off onto the floor.

 

"Almost, but not quite-" The house elf interrupts them, bringing them tea with a few biscuits on the side. It places it on the side table before disappearing. Voldemort reaches over and pours a cup, spooning out sugar and muttering a subtle spell before handing the cup to Draco. His hands shake as he recieves it. He pours himself a cup and starts to sip, satisfied when Draco starts to sip at his own tea. The boy's face moves into a momentarile frown as he takes in the bitter taste, but then his face smooths itself out, the terrified expression remaining.

 

"As I was saying, Draco, you didn't act cowardly. You acted like. A. Child." He hisses. Draco's eyes go wide and he blinks at him as the affect of the sugar takes place. Then his eyelids start to droop and his hands go slack on the now empty cup as he finishes speaking.

 

"And if you are going to act like a child, then I am afraid I am going to have to treat you like one." Draco's eyes close as he slumps forward into the Dark Lord's awaiting arms. The Dark Lord smirks.

 

So it begins.

 

* * *

 

 

Many common wizards percieve the act of Obliviation to be deleting someone's memories. Many common wizards are wrong. Obliviting someone doesn't necerssarily mean deleting memories, it means erasing them from the active part of your victim's mind. You can't delete memories fully, but you can store them in an unused part of their mind and make it near impossible for them to be retrieved.

 

This is what he does now, skimming through Draco's brain, picking and choosing memories to keep and memories to lock away. He comes across a memory of a birthday, with Draco surrounded by what now makes up most of the older Slytherin students at Hogwarts. He keeps the feeling of happiness of recieving gifts, and then locks the actual memory away. He won't be needing it.

 

He locks away memories of Quidditch, but not of Slytherin. He leaves in the pride Draco feels at being in the house of Salazar Slytherin. He leaves in only vague memories of magic, more notions that concrete lessons. He takes out memories of his former friends and teachers, of his former parents, of his former enemies. There is a ridiculous amount of Potter in this boy's brain. He leaves in only the vaguest feelings he associates the memories with, and then makes him forget everything else.

 

He finds himself associated with dread and fear in the boy's brain. And that just won't do, will it?

 

So he changes the fear into happiness and the dread into respect. He keeps in the memories of being branded with the Dark Mark, replacing the fear with joy.

 

When he is finished playing with Draco's brain, he undresses him, noting the pale scar tissue on his chest. Severus had informed him of Potter almost killing him in the bathroom. Honestly, didn't the boy know he shouldn't pick fights he couldn't finish?

 

He takes out a pair of silk pyjamas in a light blue colour. The robe is a child's size, with small wands sewn into the fabric with even smaller bursts of magic coming out of them. Pathetic, really. But they are childlike, and after a simple resizing charm he slips them over the boy's chest and hips.

 

Then he sits by the chair beside the bed, and waits for Draco to wake and his punishment to begin.

* * *

 

 

He does not wake quickly. He goes through a series of sharp stinging pains in his head, through blinking his his eyes several times until they focus on the wooden beams on the ceiling, and then on the - ... not quite man - _being_ by his bedside.

 

"My Lord?" He questions, feeling a swell of happiness deep inside his chest, though he is not sure why. There is a feeling of something else, too, a feeling he cannot quite place.

 

His Lordship smiles in a way that makes him suddenly feel the cold in the room. He shivers.

 

"It is not 'My Lord' to you, is it?"

 

"It isn't?" He tries to remember what he is supposed to call his Lord- the _being_ , and finds his mind blank.

 

"Of course not, I am not your Lord."

 

"You... aren't?" Alarm bells are ringing in his head. This seems wrong. He doesn't like it. "Then who...?"

 

"Silly boy. I'm your Daddy."

 

"Daddy?" He repeats dumbly. The word is odd in his mouth. It is the word for a child and he doesn't feel like a child. Daddy stares at him, and the longer he does the more it makes sense. He thinks about Daddy and feels happiness, and pride and respect.

 

Draco's face breaks out into a shy, childish smile. "Daddy?" He murmurs. Voldemort smiles back.

 

* * *

 

 

Draco is a pretty teenager, and an even prettier child. He dresses him in lightweight robes, some which barely cover his knees, in purples and blues and greens. He puts him in a dress once, and then doesn't again. He sticks a dummy in his mouth, and then takes it out. Sometimes he puts it in and sometimes he doesn't.

 

He lets Draco sleep in his own bed in his own room. The windows are locked and charmed shut, and Draco is not permitted to pass the wards. And really, why would he want to?

 

Sometimes he gives him milk or tea, one time a hot chocolate, and waits for the sugar to take affect and for him to slump forward bonelessly. He has his way with the boy while he is none the wiser. Draco never seems to notice that he wakes with bruises that weren't there earlier.

 

Other times he makes the boy do the work. The second night, when Draco had had his bath and they were in his room, he makes the boy suck him off.

 

He isn't very good at it at first, not being able to get his mouth over him and then choking when he managed it. He seems to forget his struggle when he tells him how proud he is. Draco's smile lasts the rest of the night. He wonders how the Malfoy's would react if they saw him now.

　

* * *

 

It wouldn't be a punishment if Draco didn't hurt, of course. He thinks this as he bends Draco over his knee and tugs his robes up over his head, leaving the boy bare before him.

 

"Daddy..." Draco croaks, just as he had for the past week whenever it came near his bedtime. A spanking was part of his routine. At first he had pleaded to know why, and he had only told the boy that he was his Daddy and therefore could and would do anything he pleased, and the boy couldn't do anything about it. He thinks Draco is starting to understand.

 

He runs his hands over the pale flesh of the boy's behind. "You know I'll make it worse if you beg," He warns.

 

"Yes Daddy." Draco says obediantly, burying his face in his arms.

 

The spanking goes much like the ones before it. It starts with Draco stubbornly refusing to make a sound, and then him letting out little whimpers fifteen minutes in, and ends with Draco crying openly and squirming in an attempt to get away.

 

Voldemort pulls Draco up into a sitting position, enjoying the way he winces as he is sat on his bruised behind. He wraps his arms around the boy in an embrace, smirking as the boy buries his face in his chest, sobbing. He lets the boy cry himself out before picking him up with ease and carrying him to the bathroom.

 

He sets the boy down on the tiled floor as he runs the taps, spitefully making it colder than it should be. He will not do big gestures with the boy, it is the smaller, spiteful things that will mold him into the child he wants him to be.

 

He waves his wand to summon the boy's pyjamas. A green set today, with golden snitches embroided into them.

 

Draco runs his hands over the fabric of his nightclothes as Daddy runs his bath. He wanted to run his bath himself because Daddy always made it too cold and he didn't _like_ being cold. It made his teeth chatter and his skin go all bumpy.

 

Daddy dips his hand into the water. "It's ready,"

 

Draco pulls himself to his feet, rubbing at his stinging backside. He sticks one foot and and freezes. It is much, much colder than the cold it normally is.

 

"Draco?"

 

"D-Daddy, it's cold." He shivers. Daddy sighs.

 

"Get in, or I'll give you another spanking, one that will hurt you for weeks afterwards."

 

Draco's scrambles to comply, the threat of another spanking making him drop down heavily into the icy water. He watches as some sloshes over the sides and drops into the floor.

 

He leans against the side of the tub as Daddy scrubs over him with a washcloth. He moves into his touch as he washes icy water over his white-blond hair, and then closes his eyes as the washcloth and Daddy's hand go between his legs. It always takes Daddy longer to do down there, for some reason. It makes him uncomfortable, but Daddy never told him if it was bad or not so he doesn't complain.

 

He is shivering when he finally is allowed out of the bath. Daddy wraps him in a fluffy towel and dries him quickly, and then helps him into his pyjamas. He doesn't need help, not really, but Daddy thinks he does and Daddy knows best.

 

Daddy tucks him into his bed, and he asks for a story. Daddy always tells him the same one, but he doesn't mind because it is _Daddy._ He was extra good today and Daddy lets him have a bottle of warm milk. He sucks on the tip as he listens to Daddy's voice.

 

"There was once a little boy named Dragon, who had everything he could possibly want. His Daddy was his favourite person, because his Daddy gave him everything he wanted. Dragon was very happy, until a mean old man made him go to school," Draco's eyes begin to droop, tired out from the days events. "the boy tried to make friends with another boy who was the same age. But this boy was mean, and believed himself better than Dragon because of a scar. The boy rejected the Dragon's friendship, and bullied him instead, with his other friends, a girl who thought she was smarter than everyone else and a boy who couldn't hold a Galleon to his name. They made the boy very sad. But then Daddy made the mean scar-boy and his friends go away, and then Dragon was very happy..."

 

Draco is asleep before he finishes.

 

* * *

 

 

Draco isn't always so compliant. The spell locked his memories away, but not his attitude. Draco pouts as he refuses to eat his dinner. It is still the second week of his punishment, and he has clearly not grasped the concept of doing as his Daddy tells him.

 

"Do I have to spank you?" He hisses angrily. He is frustrated enough at the Snatchers poor attempts to find Potter, and he will not humour the boy's bad behaviour today.

 

Draco starts slightly at his tone of voice, yet keeps his arms locked around him stubbornly as he refuses to eat his dinner.

 

"I don't care!" He says miserably. For the life of him, he cannot figure out why the boy chose today to be a brat. He thumps his hand down on the wooden table, and the boy flinches. He doesn't give the boy a chance to react as he grabs his arm in a bruising grip and drags him from his chair. Draco struggles to free himself, seeming to realise he chose the wrong day to have a temper tantrum.

 

"Daddy-!" He is cut off when Voldemort backhands him violently. His head snaps to the side and he gasps.

 

"You clearly haven't learned to be a good boy, yet!" He bellows. Draco seems to shrivel in on himself, shuddering.

 

"I'm sorry-"

 

"You're not." He continues dragging the boy behind him until the reach a bedroom that he has not allowed Draco in before. Draco gazes around the room, and then whimpers as Voldemort waves his hand and a belt comes flying out from a corner into his palm with a snap.

 

"Take off your robe," He orders. Draco stares at the belt, eyes wide with fear.

 

"Daddy, I'm-"

 

"Robe. Off. Now." Draco's hands fumble with his robe as he tugs it off his head, not taking eyes off of the belt. With anyone else he would use curses and spells, but with Draco he wants it to be physical, to leave marks as reminders.

 

"Kneel by the bed."

 

Draco does, burying his face in the soft blankets as Daddy teaches him a lesson in obeying. When he is done Draco is left sobbing through the pain, his back riddled with welts and blood is dripping to his thighs. He isn't sure which is worse, the sting of the leather or the vicious bite of the buckle.

 

Daddy hits him one last time and he decides that the buckle is worse.

 

* * *

 

 

Draco looks glum as Daddy hands him his bottle, still upset about his earlier punishment. He had had to drain and refill the bath water due to the amount of blood, and Draco wouldn't stop sniveling throughout, but he knows he made the right choice. Draco must learn.

 

"I'm sorry, Daddy." He whispers as he sucks gently on the nipple, drinking his milk slowly.

 

"You know how you can make it up to Daddy, don't you?"

 

Draco nods, already pushing up his robes.

 

* * *

 

Sometimes he find he is incredibly sad. He doesn't know why, Daddy doesn't tell him. Sometimes he'll cry around Daddy when he is showing how much he loves him.

 

Daddy never tells him why.

 

* * *

 

 

He knows something is wrong as soon as he opens the door to Draco's room that morning. Draco isn't still dozing as he usually is, instead he's hovering by his bed, hands fluttering nervously over the sheets.

 

"I'm sorry, Daddy." Draco says, head bowed in shame. He notices the wet patch on the pyjama bottoms and resists the urge to smirk.

 

"What have you done?" He asks, but he can already smell it.

 

"I woke up and, I-I didn't mean to, D-Daddy! It was an a-accident!" Sure enough, when he takes another step into the room he can see the stain on the mattress cover.

 

"This is a very childish thing, Draco. You know what this means, don't you?"

 

Draco's watery eyes meet his, dread with a tiny flicker of hope mixed in. "N-No?"

 

"Go get the belt, Draco. You must learn not to be so childish."

 

A tear dribbles down his face as he stumbles from his room. He will enjoy making him cry more later.

 

* * *

 

 

He presses a porcelain doll into Draco's hands. Draco takes it gently, eyes wide in awe. His fingers trail over the doll's white face, and he strokes his hand over its lacy petticoats, tangles his fingers in its hair.

 

"Daddy?" Draco asks.

 

"It's all yours, a gift. Daddy has work to do, and won't be around all the time. You can play with the doll instead."

 

"Thank you, Daddy!" Draco leans up and presses a wet kiss to Voldemort's cold lips. Voldemort pulls him closer, slipping his tongue into Draco's mouth. Draco lets him with a soft sigh. But there's a frown on his face when he breaks off the kiss.

 

"But Daddy, why do you have to go away?"

 

"Daddy has to get rid of some mean people."

 

Draco cocks his head, thinking. He doesn't know anyone other than Daddy. He forgot other people existed. Or maybe he didn't know at all.

 

"Like the scar-boy and his friends?" He guesses. They are the only other people he has ever heard of, but he doesn't think they count because they're not real.

 

Voldemort smiles and nods. Draco is getting it.

 

* * *

 

 

Draco woke up wet again, and Daddy belted him again. It hurt more this time, because it was opening up old scars and making new ones.

 

He doesn't know why he keeps doing it. He makes sure he goes to the bathroom before bedtime, and he doesn't need to go in the night, but he'll just wake up wet. He wishes it would stop. He wants to be perfect for Daddy.

 

He sits stiffly at the table, clutching the doll in his hands, biting the dummy to keep himself from crying. Although Daddy made the cuts seal themselves with his wand he can still feel them crack everytime he moves. When Daddy sets down his porridge he eats it awkwardly, trying not to spill it and not move at the same time.

 

Daddy never eats breakfast, instead using the time to simply watch Draco. It makes him feel funny inside. He still hasn't figured out if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

 

"Have you named it?" Daddy asks suddenly. Draco puts down his spoon, brushing his fingers through the doll's hair.

 

"Narcissa." He answers. He likes that name. It makes him feel funny too, in both a bad way and a good way. It makes him think of bees and the sun and gardens.

 

Daddy is looking at him weirdly. "Are you sure want to name it that?" He says, voice hard.

 

"No," He decides. Daddy clearly doesn't like that name. He racks his brain, and names it the only other name he can think of. "Pansy."

 

Daddy is still looking at him weirdly. "Come here, Draco." He gestures to his lap. Draco sits on his knees, feet dangling either side of him. Daddy looks into his eyes and whispers a word, and Draco's head feels funny. In a bad way.

 

* * *

 

 

He isn't remembering. Voldemort can tell that much. More... projecting random thoughts. The names Narcissa and Pansy are deep inside his mind, and he expects the names Lucius and Vincent and Greg are lurking in the corners, too. He doesn't know why he knows those names, he just does.

 

* * *

 

 

He doesn't like it when Daddy goes away. He has Pansy to keep him company, but sometimes she refuses to talk and he is left lonely again.

 

Daddy told him that he had babysitters when he goes away. He has seen them briefly, and doesn't like them. They aren't like his Daddy.

 

A man who always stares at him oddly is one. He is quiet, often ignoring Draco, no matter what he does. One time he threw a tantrum because Daddy was away and the man wasn't Daddy. When the man had got up Draco froze and thought he was getting Daddy's belt, but he just left the room. The man usually sticks the dummy in his mouth and leaves him to his own devices. He overhears Daddy calling him 'crab' and thinks his name is odd too. Crabs aren't people.

 

However odd the man is, though, he prefers him over the woman. The woman has wild hair and ferocius eyes, often smirking at Draco in a way that makes him feel sick. Once, she is at the house when he wets the bed, and instead of the belting he was expecting she pointed her wand at him and made his bones ache for hours afterwards. He takes to playing hide and seek when she's around, often hiding in dark, dusty spaces for hours and hours with only Pansy for company.

 

She always finds him eventually.

 

* * *

 

 

One time, when he had made Daddy very happy, Daddy lets him outside. Daddy deposits him by a thorny rose bush, and he and Pansy have adventures all through the grass. He is only a tiny bit disappointed that there were no Narcissus.

  

He is very happy all through the evening, and when Daddy tells him to spread his legs after his story, he does without hesitation, ignoring the lump in his throat.

 

Daddy really is his favourite person.

 

* * *

 

 

One time after Daddy gets home and the hateful woman has finally left, Draco shows his Daddy how much he loves him. He is swallowing Daddy down when suddenly his hand tightens in Draco's hair and his eyes go funny. Draco chokes around him, scratching at Daddy's hand in an attempt to get him off and let him breath.

 

"Daddy?!" He says as best he can with his mouth full. Daddy's grip suddenly loosens and Draco scrambles backwards, murmuring to his Daddy to come back.

 

And then he does, and he regrets taking his mouth off of him when he sees the angry look in his red eyes.

 

* * *

 

 

He squirms around in his bed, clutching at his nightshirt. His bottom is aching from the punishment Daddy gave him, and he can't find a comfortable way to sleep.

 

It's worse than usual because Daddy took Pansy away from him, too. He feels so empty without anything to hold.

 

And he doesn't even know _why_.

 

* * *

 

 

Daddy gives Pansy back after a belting two days later. Draco clutches her to his chest, feeling so, so grateful.

 

He vows to never make Daddy angry again. He will be the best boy ever.

 

"Do you think Daddy is angry at me because I've been bad?" He whispers to her one night.

 

Pansy only stares at him blankly.

 

* * *

 

 

He thought that Daddy's black moods would pass eventually, and he is now thinking he was wrong. Everytime Daddy came back from wherever he went, he was rough to the point of making him choke and once, bleed. He tries to stop doing whatever it is that's making Daddy mad, but he doesn't _know_ what it is.

 

One morning he took Draco over the table in the dining room, and the wood digging painfully into his ribs with each thrust had made him cry. When Daddy was done, he had just tugged his robe back over him and dumped him outside for the whole day.

 

The day was really hot, and the sun burnt Draco's pale skin easily. He didn't dare go back inside to look for Daddy.

 

Pieces of his skin peeled off in the bath later. Daddy didn't seem to care.

 

* * *

 

 

He expects to be given his milk and story in bed, but Daddy decides to do something different. He lets Draco stay up longer than usual, _and_ gives him some chocolate. Draco _never_ gets overly sugary things, and makes sure he finishes every piece.

 

Daddy lets him sit on his lap in front of the fireplace as he combs his fingers through Draco's shoulder-length hair. Draco sighs against his chest, thumb in his mouth. He takes it out and tiredly asks, "When am I going to be big like you, Daddy?"

 

Voldemort looks at him sharply, but there is nothing but childlike curiosity in his eyes. Voldemort smiles back, knowing that Draco is gullible enough to believe anything he says.

 

"A long while, Dragon."

 

He is lying. He is never going to let Draco grow up. Never, ever.

 

* * *

 

 

Daddy is gone for a long, long time. But this time, he doesn't come back.

 

Draco clutches Pansy in the corner of his bedroom, sobbing silently.

 

_Where did my Daddy go?_

 

**Author's Note:**

> Narcissa reminds Draco of bees and gardens because it is a flower, and I have a head canon that Malfoy Manor had a garden with Narcissus in it, which Draco has a vague picture of.
> 
> When Voldemort's eyes go 'funny' and he almost chokes Draco, it is because Harry is seeing inside his head.
> 
> 'Crab' is Vincent Crabbe's father, who looks at Draco 'oddly' because he obviously knew Draco before his punishment. I don't believe he is ever given a first name in the books.
> 
> Bed-wetting is an indicator of sexual abuse in children.


End file.
